BYOB
by meekobb
Summary: Ziva's nervousness isn't necessary. He was always one who could be trusted.


_Z._

_ My place. 7pm. BYOB._

_ T._

* * *

Ziva stared at the email, trying to comprehend it before lifting her eyes over her monitor to look at it's sender. The man continued on with his work, and jokes, without so much of an inclination that he had sent such an... invitation? Why would he want her over at his place? And why not just ask her...

Because she would say no. She knew that much. Closing the window, she finished her report to leave on Gibbs' desk, as the man was still with the Director discussing the case they had just wrapped up. Ziva threw her coat over her arm before heading to the elevator, a set of green eyes watching carefully from his distance.

"Goodnight McGee, Tony," she said, making her escape. She let out a breath as the doors closed behind her, and her arms dropping to her side, Ziva was not sure what to do. As much as she wanted to go, she did not. Shaking her head, she reached to press the button for the ground floor before hitting the one underneath it. She needed to talk. To someone, anyone.

Still hard at work, and bouncing to her – music, Abby had just spun in place, her pigtails spinning around her face before noticing a visitor. "Ziva! What's up chica?"

"Abby," Ziva smiled nervously as she made her way closer to her friend as she turned down the radio. "I, um, need some advice."

"Advice? What's up?"

If it was even possible, the woman blushed. "I suppose you would call it, girl talk? Yes?" Ziva started and then rushed on. "I got an email tonight, an invitation. I do not know if I should go or not, especially after everything. I mean sure he's a friend, and while I've spent time alone with the man in the past, I have not really spent alone time with him recently..."

"Whoa whoa whoa! Hold up, invitation to what? By whom? Time alone for alone time? What kind of alone time are we talking? Like the hinky kinky kind or the pop a brew and watch the game kind?" Abby interrupted with her barrage of questions.

"I do not know what kind of invitation. And the man..."

Abby looked at the uncharacteristic nervousness that her friend was obviously struggling with. Hinky in deed. "It's Tony. Right? Well, what did he say?"

"Tony? I – well, yes. Just said to meet him at his place tonight. And BYOB, whatever that means," Ziva answered.

"Bring your own beer, booze, whatever. Why are you here then? Shouldn't you be getting ready to go to his place? You've been there tons of times, I been there tons of times..."

"Yes! I know I've – we've all been there, but I have not been there si-"

"Since Somalia? Well, you two have been alone a lot since you've been back, right? Gibbs has sent you out on the road together. And as far as I knew, you two sorta buried that whole um, incident behind you I thought," Abby questioned, confused.

Ziva began pacing. "Yes, we've been alone. On the job. Really the only time we were together, off the clock was only here, at the office. When we watched that pirate movie of his a few weeks back," she retorted.

"Ooh I get it now. This is a more alone time over time alone. You know Tony won't try anything on you. You can kick his butt from here to Hell and back. Just be his friend and let him be yours."

"Abby, he is my friend..."

"Then what's the problem?"

There was no problem. Just her own fears. And the nagging voice in her head that always told her to trust no one, that has been wrong more times than she would like to admit to.

At 6.58PM, she was in her car, a brown paperbag on her passenger seat, and large dark eyes staring at her steering wheel. It had to be now or never, Ziva figured. How it would go, she did not know, nor did she intend to speculate. Before she could change her mind, she swiftly grabbed the bag and headed up the stairs to his door.

Ziva was about to knock when the door suddenly opened, Tony with a surprised look on his face at seeing her there. She was surprised at his expression and her insides turned. Perhaps it was a bad idea...

"Hey," she greeted.

"Hey back," Tony said, blinking through the shock. "I was actually beginning to think you wouldn't come. Was about to go to your place for you..."

So, he was going to go find her if she didn't come? What was this about? "Tony...why?" she asked, curious as to his motivation for this sudden change.

"Can't a guy just want to see a friend? Share a beer?" He asked, that slight laugh of his when he talked that sometimes rang in his words.

"Well, I am here," she said slowly. "With some um, Bertani Amarone and Carona. The market was actually out of limes..."

Tony's lips pulled back, "Bertani is good wine. Not too cheap either, but fine Italian. Come in."

He held the door for her as she slipped past, leaving a respectable amount of space for her. "Well, I wasn't sure if you were coming of course. I did make some dinner just in case you did since it was a busy day – of course if you ate already since you left the office that's fine too. It's just some grilled chicken salad."

"I would love some Tony. Was it dinner you had planned?" she asked, jumping ahead of a great deal of the pretense.

"Ziva? It's Friday," he said, as if it meant anything.

"Yea? Friday. So?"

"Movie night? Remember?"

Ohh... It was a practice they had never gotten back into once the team split the first time, after Jenny's death. It was also an event that was meant to be shared between them. "Oh," was all she could say. "Well, do you want the wine to chill or leave it out? Or not at all?"

"Leave it out, we could have it with dinner and movie," Tony grinned as he motioned for her to make herself comfortable. "If you want, you can start the DVD. _La Strada_, Anthony Quinn movie. Great man, great name!"

Ziva forced herself to relax as she chuckled. Reaching for the remote, she hit play. "Play on," she whispered to herself.

It was into the second film that the man had selected for the night when she ran a hand over her arm subconsciously. The hair stood on end as the goosebumps sent shivers through her.

"Cold?" Tony asked, noticing. "I been having trouble with the air. Sorry. I'll grab you a blanket." Coming back he passed it to her before settling on the sofa next to her as he reached for his wine.

"Can you pass me my glass?" Ziva asked, curling up under the comforter. Taking the glass from him just as he was passing it off to her, a loud clap of thunder roared outside, causing her to jump and spill the dark wine.

"Whaa? Rain? No!" Tony whined before turning back to Ziva's cry. Jumping, they both went to get towels and other odds to clean up the mess.

"I'm sorry Tony, I will pay to have it cleaned..." she repeated to his objections.

Shaking his head, he only laughed. "No worries. I'll just shove it in the tub to soak, but unfortunately the only other one I have is on my bed."

Ziva looked up at him, giving him the eye at what he just said before he even realised it.

"Of course that isn't an invitation to the glorious DiNozzo-land," he covered up. "I only meant that we would have to share it with as cold as it's gonna get now that a storm is coming in and the AC broken. Of course if you don't want to, that's fine as well..."

"Tony, we can share a blanket. We are grown adults," Ziva said, though that voice in her mind rolls it's eyes at the words.

Tony looked at her, his green eyes full of mystery. "If you insist," he said.

Once they were settled back on the couch, and continued to watch the second film, it had felt like old times. Laughter. Tears. Jokes and lessons being exchanged back and forth. As minutes turned into hours, it wasn't until some time during the third film, or was it the fourth? They just kept putting in another movie for the sake of 'just one more,' that Ziva had dozed off, her head on Tony's shoulder.

When he turned his head to ask her something, noticing, he merely smiled and hit the mute button on the remote, letting the rest of the movie play out. Carefully moving into a more comfortable position – and trying to not get fresh with his favorite ninja chic, he let his head fall back on the couch, an arm gently wrapped around Ziva's shoulders, and closed his eyes.

His body soon shook with laughter after Ziva's hand softly fisted some of his shirt when she mumbled into his shoulder, "Thank you my hairy butt."


End file.
